Tango towards Destruction
by Broken Mirrors
Summary: [SanAto, Sidestory OshiFuji and maybe YanaYuki]After high school life is essentially different, things that had mattered so much in past were now only fainting dreams of childhood. Matured characters.
1. Prologi

**Fandom:** Prince of Tennis  
**Characters:** Sanada, Atobe  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer:** The boys are Konomi Takeshi's, not mine.  
**Warnings:** It'll be long and takes place in future, and is thus a little AU-ish.  
Notes: Takes place in Japanese – American Goodwill Junior Invitational Tournament, in Atobe -Sanada doubles match.

Beta read by the lovely cimorene (at LJ)! Many thanks to her! ♥

Hope you enjoy reading it!

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**  
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**Tango towards destruction**

_'Life is like a shooting star  
It don't matter who you are  
If you only run for cover, it's just a waste of time  
We are lost 'til we are found  
This phoenix rises up from the ground  
And all these wars are over'_

Dolphins cry – Live

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**  
Prologue**

It was different, definitely different.

He had played doubles before with Yuushi, and sometimes with Jirou. But it had never been like this. This time he felt like a part of something, like he belonged to something. It was scary. He was a singles player. He liked to play it out without anybody's help. His upbringing had left him decidedly unaccustomed to relying on other people.

He was a lonely star and he liked to shine alone, without anybody to compete with him for the spotlight, without anybody seeking to complete him.

It was strange, yet still oddly comforting, to know that he wouldn't have to face the possibility of failure alone, that there was somebody there to watch his back. It was alluringly easy to fall back on that support, for the opponents this time were truly strong.

The problem was that his supposed partner wasn't actually there whenever the ball managed to get past him. Their dynamic was completely off. But he had managed alone this far and he would still.

It wasn't like he needed anybody's help!

He was extremely perceptive, able to see his opponents' weaknesses clearly, but there were two of them this time, which made beating them alone fairly impossible. He knew his own strength, and realized that Sanada was equally strong, but their combination was still in its newborn state, too fragile to match the teamwork of the old married couple on the other side of the net.

Sanada was somewhere behind him, where it was impossible for Atobe to see. And it made him feel edgy, because even though he wasn't able to pinpoint Sanada's location every moment, he could strangely almost feel his partner. It was like there was some unnatural connection binding him to Sanada with iron shackles.

The air was pregnant with whispered invitations, soft unspoken questions, unreadable signs of possible collision. It was in the air, harsh breathing and heavy intakes before lightning-fast swings. It was in the scents that filled his nostrils: not the familiar tennis court grass or chalk from the white lines, not even the enthusiasm of the crowd, but the earthy scents of sweat and warm skin and the pureness of the fabric softener that smelled like green tea and oranges. And it was in the sounds that filled his ears with steady sharpness: low grunts from returning a heavy ball; an almost nonexistent, soft humming that Sanada probably wasn't even aware he was making. It was there. An invitation to dance. An outstretched hand and a count to four, a rhythm that matched the blood throbbing in his veins. It was there to lure him into the pace that would carry them both.

But it was different from his own pace, and he was stubborn this way. It was his way or no way.

But Sanada wouldn't surrender to his lead either. Sanada was also a loner, maybe even more than him. And it was so frighteningly clear to him, for he could sense Sanada in a way he had never sensed anybody before, like the other half of himself. Could Sanada read him too?

The thought was terrifying to the point of confusing and distracting. It happened so rarely anymore that his concentration faltered that he didn't recognize what was happening until it was too late, and the ball bounced right past his ear before he could react.

"Atobe," his partner murmured, frustrated. Well, who wouldn't be? He knew he was edgy and ready to explode into violence at the slightest provocation.

"Shut up!" he snapped, a little too forcefully perhaps. But he didn't need anybody to tell him what to do. It was his way or no way! But he hated losing, and lose he would if something didn't happen soon.

And they did dance - reached for each other and held on tight. He felt odd, wild joy streaming through him when he finally answered the call of the rhythm. He lost himself completely in the pace that tied them together and embraced the new bond found there, stopped thinking and just reacted to the other's movements with the instinct that was in the rhythmic throbbing of his blood. He danced effortlessly, completing his partner's movements with his own, and he felt beautiful.

He felt complete.

Sanada was a perfect partner, performing his part of the dance with uncharacteristic politeness and ease, supporting with comforting composure, never allowing his hold on Atobe to slip. It was new. It was thrillingly exciting. And it was over too soon.

"Game and match, Atobe - Sanada, seven games to five."

The roar of the crowd was surprising and made him feel a little dizzy. He was still in the game, and felt oddly disappointed to realize that it was over. Their dance had come to an end.

He meekly followed Sanada's lead and clasped hands with the other players, putting on a mask of indifference. It was an understatement to say that this felt anticlimactic. He felt deceived - betrayed, even. Sanada was acting so cool and distant, like there hadn't been that amazing contact between them just a few moments ago.

"What were you mumbling about Tezuka when you were serving?" Sanada's hard gaze was on him, like hot steel slashing against his weary eyes.

"What? Tezuka?" What the hell was his problem? "Yeah, I wanted to save that serve for the next game with Tezuka." He smirked at the thought of the surprised expression Tezuka would have made when he used his new ace. Well, he had practically ruined that possibility just now. But no matter; he could always come up with a new one to amaze Tezuka with.

"You have some odd obsession for Tezuka, Atobe. That's not healthy." Sanada was not looking at him anymore, his gaze fixed steadily on the bag he was packing.

"What do you know about my obsessions, Sanada?" Who the hell did he think he was? "Somebody has to teach the boy some manners." The smug grin that had faded for a moment was back on his face and he chuckled softly to himself.

"You think you're up to it?" Sanada murmured under his breath, but without much force.

"Why wouldn't I be? I have beaten him once already." It was oddly comforting to banter with Sanada about Tezuka.

"So what's the point in doing it again?" Sanada whipped him with one heated glare before turning to stalk away.

He trailed after the lean form of Sanada, feeling numb. Why was he being so cold? They had won, hadn't they? He didn't hear the cheers and congratulations of their team-mates when they passed by on their way to showers. Only the tiny glimmer of soft amusement in Oshitari's eyes held his interest for a moment before he headed to the changing rooms well ahead of Sanada.

It was not like him to pass the opportunity to bask in the warmth of praise. But he couldn't enjoy his victory as coldly as Sanada, and it was not his accomplishment alone. It would have felt wrong to accept all the adulation for himself.

No, that was not right. He felt empty. The victory felt like nothing without the excitement Sanada should have been sharing with him. What was wrong with him? He didn't feel like himself, and it was frustrating as hell.

He threw his racquet to the bench and undressed with swift, restless movements, throwing his shirt almost angrily to the floor before bending to untie his shoelaces.

It was unbearable. He was still worked up to the point of irritation from the game. The adrenalin pounded through him still like a hammer, nailing his senses a notch too high, and readiness to move made him jumpy.

He felt like a deer in a headlight.

Yes. A nice, hopefully long, hot shower would do him good. Maybe he would be able to relax a bit. It would have been better if he could have found some other outlet for his anxiety, but somehow Sanada's coldness and his own unwillingness to celebrate had rendered him empty, too numb to even think about it.

Somewhere along the path of his thoughts he started to become angry. He had earned this victory! He had worked so hard to achieve it!

He heard the door being pushed open and glanced under his bangs at Sanada, who went on calmly undressing and then picked up his towel from his bag. He straightened himself and glared at his infuriatingly relaxed partner, then fumed when he was completely ignored.

That bastard! How dared Sanada deny him the glory of victory through his half-hearted attitude of dispassion? He should have been thrilled to no end just to have the opportunity to play with him. Why was he acting so cold?

He knew there was a fire under that calm exterior, and he felt insulted that the other didn't share its flame with him. He felt used. But thinking of it like that, it wasn't surprising. All he had ever felt from Sanada was used.

It was difficult to read him even though just minutes ago he had felt so close to the other boy. In the Junior Selection Camp, where they had shared a room for a while, Sanada had pushed him around like nobody ever had before, and now he was doing it again. Infuriating bastard!

The kiss Sanada had forced on him had stayed in his mind as a confusing memory, one which bubbled up now as he watched the taller boy's lean, naked body walk to the showers, gorgeous as ever, strong and muscular.

He let his heated gaze travel down the lean back, caressing the narrow hips with his eyes, marveling at the smooth bronze of the skin. And blinked twice, perplexed when the door to the showers slammed shut forcefully against his fixed gaze. A bit touchy today, hmm?

During the Junior Selection Camp Sanada had pushed him against the wall and kissed him almost feverishly, thrusting his tongue into his mouth, claiming the response that had roused in Atobe with strong hands, molding their bodies together. Atobe remembered the heat that had rushed through him with a wild thrill and weakened his knees to boneless, soft, shaking flesh.

And just when he'd been going to kiss him back, Sanada had pulled away and thrown him some half-hearted insult, freezing his whole world for a moment.

There he had been, all but melting into the other's embrace, and Sanada was just toying with him, pushing him around.

The next morning he had learned that Sanada had somehow managed to exchange rooms with Yanagi Renji. And what bliss it had been to room with the data collector! He had felt like all his movements were measured and saved for later use. Which probably had been exactly the case.

Sanada had been a pig, but really quite an amusing pig. Yanagi was just deadly boring. He found then that he terribly missed their banter, which had not been so bad, though it'd driven him mad occasionally. Yanagi, although pretty to look at, had been awfully quiet. Sanada was gorgeous, and he had the most delicious body - Atobe couldn't possibly have gotten enough of looking at that.

He would have chosen Sanada over Yanagi any day of the year.

They hadn't spoken about the kiss, or anything else at that, since then. Sanada was as cold to him as he always had been. Atobe was sure that he had been toyed with. And that was unacceptable!

He was Atobe Keigo and nobody pushed him around!

He would have thought that Sanada was not one to pull that kind of trick; but what do you know? He might have been wrong. There was always a first time for everything, and he was prepared for anything.

All in all, the kiss was something he really didn't understand at all, as wonderful as it had been. He hadn't hidden the fact that he liked boys as much as girls, so it couldn't have been intended to pull that rope. And Sanada had never mentioned it to anybody, as far as he knew. It had only been the one kiss, so Sanada wasn't courting him or anything like that.

He felt the sparkle of laughter building inside him. Sanada Genichirou courting Atobe Keigo? Hell would probably freeze over before that would happen. And Shishido would wear pink women's underwear before Sanada would admit that he had fallen under the spell of Atobe Keigo. Not that it couldn't happen. Even Sanada couldn't resist his charms if he wanted the other to look at him. And Shishido would look rather adorable in pink.

He let a sultry smirk play over his lips as he tossed the rest of his clothing carelessly onto the bench and walked slowly to the showers. Well, he just had to admit it. Sanada Genichirou was a complete mystery to him. But what a handsome and alluring mystery.

He opened the door, chuckling softly to himself, and let his gaze wander the shower rooms, looking for the delicious bronze god that he knew should have been there washing himself busily.

He had to stop and take in the sight laid out before him for a moment before he could think straight again.

Sanada's muscular form was leaning against the tiled wall, his eyes closed and his lean body relaxed. His face was serene, smooth chest heaving with deep breaths, hands flattened against the wall beside his body, coal black hair streaming over his forehead, his body glimmering under the water droplets.

Atobe shut the door behind him silently, letting his gaze wander down Sanada's strong body, stopping at his semi-hard cock. He raised one amused eyebrow and a wicked grin touched his lips.

Well, this was something interesting. What do you know? Sanada Genichirou was having an after game hard-on, like any other mortal.

He forced himself not to touch his own hardening length and stilled one needy moan that was about to escape from his lips. Maybe he could have his revenge now.

He made his way carefully across the tiled floor, walking silently so that the other wouldn't notice him too soon. For a moment he just hovered beside Sanada, letting his gaze wander over the other's beautiful body, greedily watching every hard breath that slipped through Sanada's slightly parted lips. Then he reached out and brushed his hand over that muscular chest, teasing one nipple along the way.

Before Sanada could react, he pushed himself against the long lean body and pressed his mouth against the other's, letting out a soft whimper that was muffled by the soft, wet lips. His other hand wound around Sanada's shoulder and went to his neck, circling nimble fingers gently in the damp, short hair just behind the taller boy's ear. His other hand found its way to Sanada's slim waist, travelled down to narrow hips and grappled that tanned skin in an almost bruising hold.

He hungrily swallowed the surprised gasps from the other boy's lips and leaned closer, pushing his tongue inside the velvety heat that was Sanada's mouth. He felt the oddly familiar burning rising inside him and ground his hips against Sanada's, feeling his hard length sliding against Sanada's.

Then Sanada was kissing him back, capturing the needy whimpers that escaped from his lips, and he felt strong, shower-warm hands land on his back and pull him even harder against the lean form that was driving him crazier by the moment. A tongue was battling his own and he let it slide into his mouth, greedily sucking, savouring the unfamiliar flavours of the slick heat.

He hungrily swallowed the surprised gasps from the other boy's lips and leaned closer, pushing his tongue inside the velvety heat that was Sanada's mouth. He felt the oddly familiar burning rising inside him and ground his hips against Sanada's, feeling his hard length sliding against Sanada's.

Then Sanada was kissing him back, capturing the needy whimpers that escaped from his lips, and he felt strong, shower-warm hands land on his back and pull him even harder against the lean form that was driving him crazier by the moment. A tongue was battling his own and he let it slide into his mouth, greedily sucking, savouring the unfamiliar flavours of the slick heat.

"What do you mean, what am I doing?" He felt irritation beginning to melt his lust away. "I was kissing you! Are you stupid? I knew you were hard-headed, but I never guessed you'd be this clueless!" He felt like shouting, but held his voice to a low purr that he knew must piss Sanada off royally.

"Whatever." Sanada stormed past him, throwing him one heated glare. "Don't play your games with me, Atobe! I'm not one to be pushed around!" And then the door slammed closed behind him.

Atobe was stunned. What the hell had just happened? He felt completely lost and confused. He put his head under the shower and tried to shake some sense into his head without really succeeding.

What the hell had just happened?

TBC


	2. Sanada

**Tango Towards Destruction**

Fandom: Prince of Tennis  
Pairing: Sanada x Atobe (some SanaTezuAto, hinted OshiFuji and YanaYuki)  
Rating: NC-17  
Disclaimer: The boys are Konomi Takeshi's, not mine.  
Warnings: It'll be long. Takes place at future, and is thus a little AU-ish.

Notes: From Sanada's POV. I had to cut this part in two because it was beginning to look like a fat elephant and it was only in half way through. And thus the next part is still about Sanada, for making some difference between this and the next part I'm writing it from Yukimura's POV.

I'm not really sure if I like this at all. It came of as a little more melancholy than I would have liked. I blame the music I was listening. But I think maybe Sanada is lacking some edge here.

English is my second language, so there might be some grammar errors. I'm truly sorry about that.

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**  
Tango towards destruction**

_'Life is like a shooting star  
It don't matter who you are  
If you only run for cover, it's just a waste of time  
We are lost 'til we are found  
This phoenix rises up from the ground  
And all these wars are over'_

Dolphins cry – Live

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**  
Chapter 1.  
Part 1.**  
Unconscious Expectations

Six years later.

"You look stunning Genichirou." She breathed into his ear with ease brought by devoted practicing. He didn't respond but typed an e-mail with his phone to Renji, who had called before but Sanada had been too busy with his schedule that he hadn't had time to catch up with him.

Practice. Practice. Some fan service, lunch and more practice. Dinner with girlfriend, go home, change and pick her up to the charity ball later. All day sorted out and he didn't have time to call one of his best friends.

He had been back in Japan for over two weeks now and he hadn't had time to see any of them.

"What you're doing Genichirou?" She leaned back to the backseat of the cab, lifting one slender leg over the other and ran her nimble fingers down his thigh, teasing the sensitive area trough the wool of his trousers. He had black simple pants, which were clingy and tight around his thighs but loose and too long from the leg of the pant. They were uncomfortable but looked nice. So she had said when picking them up for him.

"Stop that Sarah. I don't have time for this." She pouted but drew her hand up to her lap and leaned in the other way to look out of the window. She was bored and anxious to get there already.

And he was anxious to never get there, to turn the cab around and head back home, call Renji in person and let sleep claim him. But it was bad for his career. So she had said. This charity ball was something he shouldn't turn down.

Yes, it was one of those things. But it was also boring and frustrating like hell, and the wool was itchy.

Back then, when he had decided to go all the way and play professional tennis he had thought that it was all he had to do. Just play tennis. But no, nothing in life was that simple. Seiichi had asked him if he knew what he was doing and was he really ready for everything that came along. He had said yes.

How childish of him, and naïve.

"… would like to meet you at dinner some day. Would that be ok? " He ended the too short message to Renji and signed it by his last name. Would they even remember his first name anymore? He hadn't been the perfect friend over the years. He had called few times, and had written short e-mails. But that really wasn't enough.

He closed the phone and glanced the woman he was living with. She was beautiful, pale skinned, heart shaped face framed with light, shining hair and dark eyes glimmering with amusement. She was quite long and her features were almost bold.

Today she was wearing equally bold, crimson colored dress with long black glows. Daring? Yes. A little flashy? Definitely. But he had to admit that it suited her rather well. She was after all not a stupid woman, nothing less would have been enough for him, and she knew how to capture her audience.

He studied her silhouette for a while before reaching out and took her hand in his. "I'm sorry. You were saying something before." He said softly, willing his voice not to betray his frustration.

She turned to him, a little sad smile curving her painted lips. "You were going to call your friend today when I came to take you to dinner, weren't you? You were disappointed that I came?" She had noticed.

Shit!

They were probably going to have one of those long, insightful chats this evening. He hated those conversations! With passion. They always left him feeling guilty and lost, longing for something.

And he knew it already. He was going to go to bed alone tonight. Not that he would mind sleeping alone but Sarah would be hurt and angry to him for few days and throw the drama queen act at his face every time he even dared to sigh.

He would have to use an awful lot of time and energy to crawl back into her bed and favor. He loathed that too, apologizing when he had done nothing wrong and almost begging when there really wasn't anything he wanted that badly.

Fortunately Sarah knew that he would never beg her, and wouldn't ask for it. She was a beautiful, intelligent woman but really god awful pain in the ass when hurt and firing all she got at him for pissing her off.

He hated lying but this called for damage control and he really didn't have time for bickering if he was ever going to see his friends.

"Well, maybe I was a little disappointed at the time, but…" He leaned down to kiss her palm gently.

"…You made me forget it just as easily." Why was he doing this again?

"You're such a bad liar Genichirou." She chuckled and tucked his dress shirt, easing away some creases.

Right, to avoid full out war. She had a nasty temper.

It was a bit odd. He knew he wasn't an easy man to live with. He was blunt and temperamental to the point of being total bastard when the mood struck him. But he never really had had any fights with Sarah. There always appeared to be more important things in his mind to fully participate in her temper-tantrums.

Seiichi had mentioned something about it when he had visited him in America last year. He hadn't been living with Sarah yet and they had had a long and thoughtful conversation about their lives during the dark hours of the night. He knew the other was happy, though a little lonely at times.

"You remember that I invited Seiichi to visit tomorrow, don't you?" Sarah looked at him a little surprised.

"You did mention it but I think I forgot." Her brows creased into an elegant frown.

"I was planning a romantic evening for us together. I was going to serve you the whole night through what ever you liked." He glared at her disappointed. How could she have forgotten something that he had pointed as very important to her?

"First I was going to make you breakfast in bed, wearing something black and sluttish I bought today. Then I was going to lick your toes and…" He glared at her annoyed until he saw a bright, amused glimmer in her eyes, taunting him to respond.

"You're teasing me."

She chuckled lightly and kissed his cheek with painted lips.

"Yes. I believe I am. "

"So, which one of your friends was him, the one who will be coming tomorrow?" She stepped elegantly out of the cab and stood up straight, almost as tall as him with her high heals.

"Seiichi Yukimura. You remember him?" Sarah had met Seiichi last year but only briefly.

"I'm sorry Genichirou. You know all the Japanese names sound awfully same to me." The adorable bout on her red lips did nothing to him and he sighed irritated.

"You met Seiichi last year. Have you forgotten already?" He offered her his arm and went leading her inside with efficient steps.

"Oh…" She was obviously thinking fast and hard. He hoped silently that she wouldn't bother. "I didn't think that he was so important to you. You never talk about him." She sounded a little insulted.

But she was right. He suddenly realized. He never had really told her anything about his past in Japan, or his family and friends. Why was that?

And she had mentioned that Japanese names were difficult for her to remember. She was just learning his native language and they almost always talked in English.

He slipped one of his rare smiles to her as an apology and took her coat. "Just forget it. I'll tell you about him on our way back home." The answering smile on her lips was nothing like the genuine one she graced him with everyday.

This evening was going to be so much fun, Sanada thought ironically.

He slipped trough the garden door, wishing he were invisible just for a moment. He had managed to escape the sleazy politicians who loved his succeeds with burning fever.

He was so full of it all: bright, false smiles, glimmering greed shining in their eyes, flashy outfits to surpass the others and thinly veiled insults bouncing between them. He hated this with compassion and felt disgusted and sick.

After only two hours he was ready to scream and smack heads to the wall and beat some sense into the annoyingly chattering businessmen. When Sarah had went to find them yet another cocktails he had fled finding disturbing violent desires too hard to subdue.

Feeling kind of silly he leaned on the railing, breathing the night air deeply and enjoying the coolness of the lonely garden.

Just a handful of people had found the hidden glass doors and it was relatively peaceful there. A light, slightly sad music seeped trough the open door. They actually had a pianist to play, not the easier CD player. A melancholic woman's voice mixed well with the simplicity of the piano. It was surprising to find such a simple beauty in a place like this.

To him the most captivating beauty was always in the simplest things. He rarely enjoyed art, it held so many meanings that it came bothersome to fully comprehend and relate with. But he appreciated the nature, little everyday mirages and the elegancy of controlled movement, the art of the body.

He openly admitted that he was a simple man, and proudly content with the matter. He enjoyed nothing like a good game of tennis and so he had pursued that thought by playing it as well as he could. He wasn't stupid, far from it, but he didn't like to make things more complicated than they had to be.

Sometimes he still wondered if he had done the right thing in quitting school and only playing tennis. It had been liberating at first to know what he would do always, pushing everything else aside and pursuing only tennis with all his determination. But after years of practice and hard work he had began to wonder if a life of a professional athlete really was so perfect for him.

He missed home and his family and friends. He missed kendo and Japan, the sakura blossoms at spring and speaking language with he didn't need to struggle for words and understandable pronunciation. At times he even felt like he hated tennis. And that was unacceptable.

A depressed sigh managed to escape his lips and he gently shook his head wondering if coming to Japan to practice was such a great idea after all. It would be that much harder to leave again.

He heard footsteps behind him and was about to turn to look if Sarah had already found him, disappointed that his moment of peace had to come to an end.

"Sanada? Is it really you?" Drawled a familiar voice behind him. He had not heard that voice for years but he still remembered it, even in his dreams, which was quite disturbing.

"Atobe." He turned folding his hands and glanced the other curiously. It had been quite a while after all.

Atobe hadn't changed at all. Or maybe just a little. He was still slender and graceful, like Sanada remembered, maybe a little bit taller but he apparently had not lost his natural boyish elegancy and the ever-cocky grin was still plastered on his lips.

Sanada found that he had not forgotten any of the other's handsome features and searched meticulously his face for any changes, marks of age and time. But Atobe's skin was as smooth and pale as it always had been and his beautiful ice blue eyes shone with amusement, full of wicked promises.

Just like Sanada remembered, and had dreamed.

"It's been a while. " Atobe had been measuring him as well, pinning him down with his intent gaze. "You look good in black." He was streaming his gaze down Sanada's fashionable wool suit. "I almost miss the ever-present baseball cap tough." The slow, sultry smirk, that colored Atobe's lips, was something that Sanada could never have forgotten.

"Yes, it's been few years." He willed his voice not to tremble for his heart was beating a little faster.

He had to remind himself that this sensual creature of casual grace and alluring charm was not the angel he had in his dreams to touch and hold and was only teasing him with flirting smiles and promising eyes. Like Atobe had played with him six years ago after the last and only doubles match they ever had played together.

Heat fired up inside him from just the thought of that creamy, pale skin that felt so soft in his memories. He wondered if it would feel as soft if he touched it now.

"Is that wool?" He blinked surprised as Atobe stepped closer in liquid movements and stretched out a hand to touch his sleeve. Nimble fingers rolled the fine fabric between them and he kept staring at them, stunned.

Those long, slender fingers, arched almost artfully, had once been caressing his heated skin but he had pushed them away.

"It must be itchy." Atobe's voice was a low purr that send shivers running down his back. How was the man capable of controlling his body like that? He wasn't a teenager anymore and thus his life was not run by hormones, like it never really had been. He was a man of steel will and he was practically engaged to a beautiful woman. Well, not yet engaged. He had the rings but he hadn't found a right moment for asking yet although he had had them quite a while now. But it was never stupid to plan well ahead.

"Not too much." He murmured his voice too harsh and low for his own taste. He could feel the heat from Atobe's fingers through the thin wool and it made him want to snatch his hand away. Atobe was all too close to him now. He could see the clever tongue flickering inside the shorter man's mouth through slightly parted lips that curved into a wider grin.

"The ever-stoic Sanada, ne?" Atobe tossed his hair back with artful motion and tilted his head slightly sideways, arching his throat line in a sensuous and surprisingly vulnerable way that left Sanada stealing gazes to that bared creamy skin, wanting to bruise the exposed neck with his lips.

Not waiting an answer Atobe continued: "I prefer my cloths more- " His voice was low and seductive, like melting chocolate, thick but liquid. He leaned towards Sanada, who unintentionally held his breath, suddenly very nervous. But the other just slumped against the railing, making the disgraceful motion seem as elegant as a dance. "-Pleasurable. Like silk, or velvet."

Atobe let his fingers travel down his own rib, caressing slightly the smooth, white silk of his shirt and tucked a little from the hem of his body-hugging vest that was the same gray as his pants. "And it looks stunning too. Don't you agree?"

Sanada glanced at him without really wanting to and he had to admit that the other looked very good in a liquid silk and gray that complimented his sparkling eyes.

Very, very good. Strikingly delicious. God, was that his thought?

"You know what you look like, Atobe. What's the point in asking me about it?" He wished his voice sounded as dry as he wanted. Hopefully the pout on the others lips was a sign of succeeding and not of amusement over his lack of self-discipline. Then he heard a low chuckle coming from those sultry lips and the pout disappeared as the tremors run down his back.

"The point of getting you to look at me of course." Atobe raised one delicate brow at him in almost challenging manner and slipped into a strikingly sensuous posture, leaning his weight on other leg, cocking his head back and arching his back elegantly. His other hand was traveling up and down the ornamental cast iron railing in a suggestive way while the other hand rested lightly on his outer hip.

"Hn," was all Sanada managed before lapsing into irritated silence. What else he could have said? It was better just to move along.

"So, where were you? I didn't see you inside." He had been a little curious about the other man's sudden appearance.

Atobe leaned on the railing, crossing his legs from ankles and sighed softly. "I just arrived."

"You're late. That's hardly polite." And so like Atobe to have his own timetable.

"What ever. I paid my ticked, that's the point in this terribly boring ball after all, isn't it?" Atobe drawled lazily, bored expression on his handsome face.

"Right. That's just like you. Never thinking anybody else but you." Sanada glared at him under his bangs and felt suddenly very annoyed by the other's lack of commitment.

The smaller man glanced at him a little surprised. "I find that irrational, dear Sanada. This is a charity thingy after all. And what is charity if not thinking about others?"

Atobe's eyes narrowed dangerously for a moment and then he grinned slowly again. "And just now, I was thinking of you. How have you been? I heard that your games have gone well. And that you are quite popular but that is hardly surprising considering…"

"Considering what?" Sanada snarled between clenched teeth. How did the fair-haired man get under his skin every time?

"Your good looks of course." The smile that the former captain of Hyotei offered him was blindingly bright and annoying.

" What did you think? The alluring aura of determination?" Atobe laughed mockingly.

He just couldn't dignify the other's lacks of brain cells with answering and decided to ignore the latest commend entirely. "It's been fantastic."

"I'm sure."

"And you? What have you been doing? I haven't heard anything about you in the news so it must be something legal that you've been doing." His own voice sounded more clipping than he would have liked but he was beginning to feel quite angry at Atobe's indirect taunting.

"I'm hurt that you think so low of me, Sanada." Atobe draw mockingly adorable pout on his lips and smiled sweetly at him, but through all the pleasantries he could saw the answering flame heating the frosty blue of the slender man's narrowing eyes. " I have been helping my father. And finishing my studies. You do know of education? The thing you're lacking."

He clenched his fists unintentionally and ducked his head to stare at the tiled floor; hiding his heated glare and hopefully even a part of his flustered face.

"Atobe." He growled. " You haven't changed at all. You're still the annoying, spoiled brat that liked to play games with other people." Considering all the people he knew, Atobe Keigo just might have been the most talented of them all in pulling the irritated respond out of him trough all his admirable self-control.

"Well I might be just that but you're no better. You are still stuck up and a hypocrite. You play games as much as I do." He haven't been imagining it, there was definitely a fire of a starting battle lying underneath the cool collectiveness. He was about to respond with same heat as he had been hit before, when the words sunk in and he raised his confused glare at Atobe's face.

"What do you mean? I don't play games." It was true. He sometimes wished he could have made people respond the way Atobe and, now that he was thinking of it, all the former Hyotei tennis team had been capable of. But he thought that even if it was a greater pain at times, it was better to be blunt and awkward than scheming and intrusive.

Atobe raised one mocking eyebrow at Sanada and his smile wasn't amused anymore but cold and hinting of cruelty. "You don't? So, what were you doing in Junior Selection camp back then, hmm?"

As Sanada had thought before, he had apparently crossed a line there and hurt Atobe's pride by kissing him. It had been the same kind of captivating situation as they were indulging right now, heated with passionate words and he felt oddly the same impulse sprung across his mind.

He wanted to push Atobe against that cast iron railing and capture the infuriating man's soft lips once again in the fire of bodies pressing together. He wanted to lick that exposed throat line, caress the heated skin with his lips, and find out if he could feel the other's heart beat with his touch.

But apparently Atobe was not experiencing the same kind of urge that he feeling.

"You got your revenge, didn't you?" What happened in the showers after their doubles game had been only a game of Atobe's with a sole purpose of embarrassing him but it had stayed in his mind as a too vivid image, taunting him, reminding him of what he could never have.

Oh Gods, how he hated these games!

"Yes I did." Atobe was now staring the same tiled floor that he had been whipping with his angry glare just moments ago.

The slender man's voice was only an edging whisper. And was that bitterness he heard underneath the proud calmness? A hint of regret? Maybe even sadness?

He found odd nervousness rising steadily within him and felt a shiver landing on the back of his neck.

Gods, no! This was not happening!

His hand bumped against Atobe's arm when he spun recklessly around to face the other fully, trembling uncontrollably.

"That was what you were after, wasn't it?" He had been right, hadn't he? He could not have been mistaken.

When Atobe raised his gaze and glared at him with those blue eyes bright with anger he knew there had been something else involved.

Sanada's brows were furrowed with a horrified frown and eyes locked in icy blue orbs, fearfully searching, and discovering something unexpected. There was sadness there, and anger, wounded pride and confusion. Something completely different from what he had expected.

The surprise must have been showing on his face and the confusion in Atobe's eyes grew stronger. He felt utterly baffled and for once Atobe wasn't taking advantage of it. The slender man stared back at Sanada transfixed, lips slightly parted, face lax from the shock of surprise.

"I…" Atobe began with rough voice staring Sanada with unblinking eyes.

"Keigo! There you are!" He didn't notice the girl until she was brushing past him and throwing herself at Atobe. "I have been looking everywhere! "

He watched as Atobe blinked slowly, letting her nest inside the circle of his arms. "Who is your friend?" She turned to look at him, not noticing how dazed Atobe still was.

"This is- " Atobe coughed few times and just like that his composure was back, like it never had slipped.

Sanada wondered if he had imagined things. He had seen something underneath that smiling flirt he saw now in front of him, but it had been so sudden and fast that he really wasn't sure what he had seen.

"Sanada Genichirou." Atobe grinned wickedly at him over the girls shoulder. "And this is Sakano Mayumi."

She was a pretty thing of course, beautiful even. She had black, sleek hair that streamed down her fragile shoulders to her back and all the way down to her waist. Her skin was creamy pale and her big eyes soft brown velvet, complimenting her pleasant features with sweet shining.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Sanada-san." Even her voice was silent and gentle. "You're the famous tennis player, aren't you? I have seen some of your games." Atobe seemed a little surprised by her sudden question. Sanada noticed this because he wasn't really looking at her but instead at the graceful man behind her.

"Yes. And the pleasure is all mine, miss Sakano." He had to get away from here. Soon.

"I didn't know you liked tennis Mayumi." Atobe was raising questioning brow at her.

"I don't… I just… " She blushed; the soft pink coloring her cheeks adorably.

She leaned her petite body to Atobe, partly hiding her flustered face into his silk shirt. Sanada felt strange violent impulse running trough him. She was sweet, little and fragile but still he wanted to bruise that pale skin with his fingers when he would pry her away from Atobe.

He averted his eyes to the glass door leading to this little, rather private balcony, so that he wouldn't have to watch Atobe smiling to her smugly. And so that he wouldn't have to feel cold anger splitting him apart making him want to growl and rip him away from her.

Atobe was not a property of his. He had no right to feel possessive of the smaller man.

"I saw the games marked on your calendar a while ago. You seemed so interested in them that I thought that… " Her voice trailed of shyly.

"Keigo watches every one of your games Sanada-san." She announced rather proudly, not noticing how Atobe froze behind her, eyes locking down on Sanada's eyes.

"He never says anything but he always takes the whole evening of to watch them." She continued obliviously.

"Genichirou! Are you here?" He heard a voice call him but for a moment he didn't recognize it until soon after familiar weight leaned on his arm.

"Genichirou, you can not disappear on me like that! Some old man, who didn't speak a word of English, cornered me and I still don't have a clue what he wanted." When he finally pried his eyes from Atobe with effort, he saw a soft pout on Sarah's lips and some curiosity on her eyes when she glanced at Atobe and miss Sakano.

"Sarah, " He sighed, exasperated from her antics. "This is Atobe Keigo and miss Sakano Mayumi."

She extended her hand to Atobe who narrowed his eyes dangerously but accepted the offered hand with easy grace, watching her almost feral gleam in his eyes. "And this is Sarah Williams."

"It's-" Atobe's eyes were cold; his lips curled into a shadow of a smile. "-A pleasure Miss Williams."

Sarah wearily offered him a soft grin and Sanada could tell she was wondering about Atobe's icy exterior.

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Keigo, " Then she moved her gaze to Sakano warming her smile a little. "Miss Mayumi."

She was hopeless. Atobe raised an amused brow, glancing Sanada with an edgy smirk.

"Atobe was one of the rival teams captain when we were still at high school." He added matter-of-factly. At least she had the grace to blush.

"Weren't you a captain too Genichirou?" She looked at him slightly puzzled.

"No, Seiichi was."

"Oh." She sounded a little disappointed. He didn't know why. He never wanted to be the captain. It was something Seiichi did.

"How is Yukimura?" Atobe drawled lazily, wicked gleam still shining in his blue eyes. "I always thought that you two were going to get together at some point. I can see I was wrong."

"Atobe…" Sanada knew Atobe was baiting him. He just hoped he would know why.

"Oshitari is here too." Atobe suddenly declared without waiting to see if Sanada would answer his question. "With Kikumaru."

"With Kikumaru?" The ever-hyper redhead from Seigaku?

"I think Yuushi likes to startle his father with his choice of company for date." Atobe smirked with almost gleeful expression, obviously appreciating Oshitari's odd sense of humor.

His own father would have given him a good old-fashioned beating if he had played a game like that with him.

"I saw Oshitari-san just before I came looking for you. He was introducing Eiji to some of his fathers friends, I think." Sanada had forgotten the silent girl for a while.

Sakano hadn't spoken aloud after they had been forced to change language. And he could hear why; her pronunciation was awkward and he hardly understood a word of what she wanted to say.

"They were surely excited." Atobe sounded very dry and he surprisingly felt like smiling. He could imagine the embarrassed expressions on the honorable, older men's faces when Oshitari introduced Kikumaru Eiji as his date.

"Would you like me to go see if I can find them again, Keigo?" Sakano tried so hard to form the words correctly that he almost felt sorry for her. Almost. She was blushing bright red and held her other miniature hand on her heated cheek.

"Would you do that dear?" He snorted for Atobe's too-sweet smile and dark-honey voice but immediately regretted his actions when he saw the hurt expression on Sakano's fragile face before she breezed out from the balcony.

"That wasn't really necessary Atobe." He scolded to smirking Atobe and wished he still had the baseball cap, so he could hide under it.

"I didn't know they were that close, Oshitari and Kikumaru."

"They have been playing tennis for six years now. I don't really know if they are close or not but Yuushi for some reason, likes to hang out with the former Seigaku team. They are not so bad people, when you get used to their little quirks." Atobe was shrugging nonchalantly.

Seigaku had quirks? And this was coming from Atobe Keigo, the unofficial Diva of tennis from their high school days, captain of Hyotei Gaguen tennis team, the home base for all weirdo's. Just consider the ever-sleeping boy, or the human-machine.

Not that his own team had been so much better.

"Theirs was not an only team with oddities. And there was fairly normal players in Seigaku too." It was true. Tezuka had been quite the normal boy.

"Have you seen Tezuka?"

"Why do you ask?" There was something guarded in Atobe's eyes. He didn't look at Sanada but the tiles under his feet.

He didn't really know why he had asked. Wait, no, he did. It always reeled in a different kind of respond from Atobe when the former Seigaku captain was mentioned.

"Last I heard about him was a year ago, when he had to quit his professional career because of the old shoulder injury." He had been looking Atobe curiously, waiting to see how he would react and could see almost unexcisting winch and slight tremors shaking Atobe's body.

What was it in Tezuka that kept Atobe's interest even after all these years?

"Well Sanada, it has been a while." He had been so fixated in following the former captain's reactions that he hadn't noticed the tensai making his appearance.

"Your games are going smoothly, I trust." The characteristic, knowing smirk was still plastered on Oshitari's lips, only grown more annoying.

"Hello Oshitari." He had never liked the Hyotei's smirking devil.

He leveled his calm gaze at the amused man and for once he hadn't had to look down. Unfortunately he couldn't see the answering look at the other's eyes because the soft light shining from the half open glass door was hiding his eyes under his glinting glasses. He could only sense a slight amused sparkle from the former tensai and it made him want to tense up.

No, he really didn't like the man at all.

Oshitari was waiting him to say something more but when the silence grew longer between them, he only arched one amused eyebrow and chuckled softly. "You never were too talkative, weren't you?" Then he moved his attention to Sarah, who was measuring him rather curiously.

"And who is this lovely lady?" He purred with seducing voice, throwing the ever-messy hair aside from his forehead before extending an elegant hand at her.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak very good Japanese. " She was still pleased. Sanada could tell from the pale shade of pink on her cheeks, and from the sly smile that tucked the corners of her mouth.

"I don't mind." His English was quite exquisite but you could expect that from Oshitari. He sounded so effortlessly correct. "Oshitari Yuushi at your service, miss…?"

"Sarah Williams, pleasure to meet you Mr. Oshitari."

"The pleasure is all mine dear Miss Williams. And please, call me Yuushi." He laid heavy lidded gaze at her from under the shining black of his bangs.

Sanada wondered if he should feel jealous. But maybe it was just a sign of her trustworthiness that he didn't feel anything, maybe a little irritated.

"Don't mind him. He likes to tease." Atobe snorted, his words dry and familiar, like it were daily routine for him to interrupt Oshitari's makeshift acts. Maybe it was, he sounded very used to it.

"Right Yuushi?" There was a wicked sparkle in Atobe's voice and Sanada couldn't help but wonder how close the two men really were.

"Until proven guilty Keigo." Oshitari didn't sound even the slightest bit offended but only winked conceitedly at Sarah.

The balcony door was again pushed fully open and the low murmur of talk, caused by endlessly chatting people invaded their almost peaceful and private corner. The melancholic piano melody was now changed into something mindless and annoying. The air was suddenly pregnant with tension and silent exasperation.

Sanada glared at the trespasser with compassion that surprised even himself and once again missed his absent headwear that would have been highly convenient.

The brave intrusive soldier was a little, middle-aged man with open expression and playful smile softening his otherwise rather sharp features. He fidgeted rather anxiously in his black, immaculate suit, trailing his curious gaze over them from under his businessman glasses and lightened up noticeably when his eyes met Atobe's lazily edged form.

"Atobe! Here you are! I have been looking for you for like hours. Come along with me. I just have to introduce you to my wife and daughters."

Waving half-mindedly to the businessman's enthusiasm Atobe rolled himself to stand up straight and offered his arm to Sakano. "All right you old fool! Just remember; I'm not marrying one of your daughters no matter how much you beg me." Chuckling to himself the black suited man turned to lead the way.

At the door Atobe stopped to gaze over his shoulder and drawled with sultry smirk: "Oi, Sanada! Let's play a game of tennis next week. I'm lacking good opponents."

It was not a question, neither a request. It was a full out challenge to him to back of, to admit that he was terrified to see the other man again, alone. But he was not one to back of from a challenge.

Not this time.

After a moment, what felt like an eternity, gazing into each other's eyes, trying to read everything that was laid out between them, he narrowed his eyes, focused and nodded in agreement. He heard Oshitari snickering and Sarah sighing but didn't care at that moment. He held Atobe's gaze a while longer, wondering about the soft hints of sadness that had appeared in the dwells of his blue orbs, and finally nodded again before turning to look away.

He was confused, and tired. The ball had been something completely different from what he had expected. He needed to think in peace. But unfortunately that was something he couldn't afford at the moment. Seiichi was coming tomorrow, Sarah wanted, no, needed attention and he couldn't forget practice. But he just couldn't let this slide.

He needed to think!

TBC


	3. Yukimura

**Tango Towards Destruction**

**Fandom:** Prince of Tennis  
**Pairing: **Sanada x Atobe  
**Rating: **G  
**Disclaimer:** The boys are Konomi Takeshi's, not mine.  
**Warnings: **It'll be long. Takes place in future, and is thus a little AU-ish.

And for today, we have Yukimura angst.

Notes From Yukimura's POV, just like I thought before. I hope the different POV will explain some of the odd thing about Sanada's personality before. And what ever it might seem like, this is SanaAto fic still. I'm just throwing some plot devices here for later use.

English is my second language, so there might be some grammar errors. I'm truly sorry about that still.

Now I've had somebody smarter than me correcting it. ) **chinawolf **(at LJ), I'm endlessly grateful to you!

Hope you enjoy reading!

* * *

**  
Tango towards destruction**

_'Life is like a shooting star  
It don't matter who you are  
If you only run for cover, it's just a waste of time  
We are lost 'til we are found  
This phoenix rises up from the ground  
And all these wars are over'_

Dolphins cry – Live

* * *

**Chapter 2**

The silent hours.

The food had been delicious. Sarah was a great cook and Yukimura had enjoyed the conversation, which had been light and warm. Though he wondered about Genichirou, who had said only a few words, seeming tenser than he remembered Genichirou to be for ages.

It was good to see Genichirou again. It had been too long since the last time.

Yukimura studied his long-time friend while Sarah served them tea and dessert. The taller man's posture was rigid and his eyes appeared tired. He wondered if the endless frown on Genichirou's face was a result of some lovers' quarrel between his friend and the possessive girlfriend. But then again, the stoic man never had appeared to mind that much when they were having arguments.

Genichirou had been absent-minded and too blunt and silent for everything to be fine. Well, he just had to find out whatever was bothering his Genichirou. And he would, as soon as he could have the man to himself for a while.

"So, how was the ball last night?" Yukimura smiled at Sarah again and took a spoonful of the odd, sugary and fluffy desert to his mouth. He was really full already but didn't want to be impolite.

Genichirou snorted, hunching his shoulders with a dark expression on his face, eyeing the white foam on his plate rather suspiciously.

Sarah's smile was slightly strained but she answered bravely: "It was great. Genichirou obviously wasn't delighted but I enjoyed it. We met some of Genichirou's old friends, unfortunately they didn't had time to chat with us for too long."

Yukimura sent a questioning gaze at Genichirou, wondering what had rendered the man so grim.

"Atobe, Oshitari and Kikumaru." The silent man suddenly answered him in his usual straight to the point way Yukimura knew so well.

"Oh," he mumbled, knowing perfectly well that his lack of response would only have bothered Genichirou more.

This was interesting. He knew, of course, about the tension between Atobe and his Genichirou. They had been like best friends after all and even if Genichirou hadn't told him what had happened at Junior Selection Camp and after their doubles match, he wasn't blind. The air had been always pregnant with unsettled tension when the two boys had been around each other. There had been times when Yukimura had been madly jealous of his vice-captain.  
"You must know them too, right?" Sarah leaned to the counter without sitting herself to the table. "I heard last night that you were the team's captain."

"Yes." He softened his voice even more than usually so that his short answer wouldn't appear so offending. She shot him a curious glance but remained silent and for that, he was grateful. He didn't want to dwell on explaining his syndrome to her.

She rubbed her hands against her white jeans; that was one of the things why Yukimura liked her, she knew when to be casual; and glanced around her smiling sweetly. "I'm going to the movies now, so you boys can catch up. Don't wait up for me Genichirou. I'll be late." Laughing brightly, she leaned down to brush a quick kiss to Genichirou's cheek and then waved at Yukimura.

"It was nice to see you again Seiichi." She was making his name sound so funny; he couldn't hold back the warm laughter that rose from his throat. "I hope we see each other again, soon." she chirped and was out of the door in a moment.  
"Thank you for the dinner. And it was nice to see you too." He smiled at her when she breezed past him.

She was a sweet girl, intelligent and thoughtful when she wanted to be. Yukimura found that he liked her against all the expectations he had had. It was a pity that Genichirou didn't love her.

"You don't have to eat that." Genichirou snatched Yukimura's plate when they were alone and began to rise from his seat. His face betrayed no emotions, but Yukimura was certain that there was something he wasn't seeing, yet.

"How do you know I don't want to eat that?" He laughed softly at Genichirou's stunned expression, which vanished all too soon and was again replaced with that irritating, expressionless mask of his.

"I know," was the only enigmatic answer Yukimura got, and that didn't bother him. He wasn't going to eat the desert anyhow.

Sanada served them more tea and after a few sips, sighed silently. Yukimura followed his friend with a worried gaze as Genichirou got up and left the room. The taller man was so tense Yukimura thought he would snap if he even thought of touching him.

He knew that Genichirou wasn't happy with how things had gone in his life. His discontent had seeped trough from their phone calls and the brief e-mails the stoic man had sent to Yukimura. It wasn't surprising; he was a very honest man after all, and all the lying to himself must have been weighting on him.

Genichirou could be so stubborn, to the point of hurting himself and others around him. He was, of course, totally blind to his own thoughtlessness, but Yukimura could see it so clearly it made him dizzy, to be so close to somebody that he could taste the bitterness the other didn't sense himself.

It had been like that always, as long as they had known each other, from the first year in Junior High to this day. And he was sure Genichirou knew him like the back of his hand. They had been inseparable, the three of them, Sanada, Yukimura and Yanagi, but most of all he and Genichirou. Renji had been more Sanada's friend, and that had been all right. He had been content with having only Genichirou. It sometimes had been more than enough.  
When he had been hospitalized, Genichirou had been there for him, visiting him, bringing hope. It had been endlessly comforting, even if his own stubborn nature wouldn't let him show any signs of weakness or fear, Genichirou had known and just been there, telling him everyday things, including him in a world that he felt he was separated from, letting him feel like he still belonged to the team that was doing great without him there.

Genichirou had let him feel like a part of himself. It had meant so much to him, to be that special to someone and it had been so easy to fall in love.

He had never told Genichirou about his feelings. It just wasn't something he would do. He had thought that the other would know, just like he knew everything else about him. He had begun to wonder when he had been well enough to participate in school again, when he had seen how much he had really lost in the year he had spend in bed surrounded by beeping machines.

Genichirou had been still his Genichirou but there had been so much more. He had felt like everything had changed over one night, like his bond with his vice-captain now included so many other people.

In the hospital, he had had Genichirou all to himself, there had been nobody to steal his attention away from him. Back in the school, there was suddenly a whole other life that wanted to separate him and his dearest friend, classes, club activities, family responsibilities, and other friends.

It had been the first year in Senior High and he wasn't able to make into the tennis team because of his weakened body and that meant he had seen Genichirou much less. He had, of course, always been at the tournaments, cheering and supporting.

And there he had first seen how Atobe looked at his Genichirou, and how he gazed back. It had been like a punch to the stomach, like a bad dream come true. His Genichirou was looking at another boy with lust and longing in his eyes. He had cried rivers that night and collected worried glances the whole next week with his red eyes and moody behaviour.

Genichirou had never graced him with one of the gazes he saved for Atobe alone, wanting, needing swirling in his bottomless eyes.

He couldn't have told the other boy about his feelings. It had been too much, it still was. But he hoped that the desire would burn itself away and Genichirou could be his. He didn't know why he had never felt like this about Sarah, but maybe it was because Genichirou had never shown the same kind of yearning towards the girl that he seemed to have stored towards Atobe all these years.

A year ago, when he had visited Genichirou at America, he had hoped that something would open his eyes soon, before he would get too deep inside this emotionless relationship of his, before he'd do something stupid and hurt everybody including himself. The man's stubbornness was something to fear for. He might decide that he had to stick with Sarah regardless of his own feelings if he had made some promises.

Yukimura had trusted Genichirou's common sense to wake up sooner or later, making the man see that he was trapped inside a cage of lies crafted by his own mind, but he was even more stubborn that Yukimura had thought.

Genichirou was obviously miserable.

Maybe it was time for him to push Genichirou a little.

"What are you thinking, Seiichi?" He almost dropped the handsome teacup he was just lifting to his lips. He had been so intently debating with himself that he hadn't noticed Genichirou's return. The expressionless man was leaning on the doorframe, holding a sake bottle in his hand.

"Nothing specific. Just thinking how much I have missed you. " He smiled sweetly, hoping the gentle warmth he felt would be showing in his eyes.

"Hn." Genichirou really knew how to amaze with his verbal brilliance. "Would you like some?"

"Sake? Why not."

Two hours later they were carelessly sprawled on Genichirou's bed, snuggled comfortably against each other's sides. Yukimura had lost his sweater jacket somewhere between the kitchen and bedroom and was now only in a tightly fitting, lavender t-shirt and his favourite pair of weathered brown corduroy pants, that were riding dangerously low on his hips. Genichirou's blue jeans were badly faded and the black t-shirt curled up from his stomach, showing too much of the toned abs for Yukimura's taste.

It was hard to look away.

Genichirou was fiddling with the remote control in his other hand while the other lay cosily on his eyes, blocking his view perfectly so that Yukimura could set his gaze on the other's bare skin as much as he liked.

"Ne, Genichirou," Yukimura drawled lazily. "Why are we watching old games from tape? Why aren't we playing at the moment? That's what we want to do, right?"

Genichirou chuckled softly and stole a glance at Yukimura from under his fingers. "Seiichi, it's late, and dark. And I'm lazy."

"What? You said you're what?" He pushed himself on his elbows, looking down at the taller man, mockingly horrified.

"The great Emperor Sanada Genichirou admitting that he's human?" Giggling lightly he poked Genichirou's ticklish side. He knew it was ticklish although the relaxed man didn't bother to respond.

"I Think, Genichirou, that you are as drunk as I am."

"That is what Sake is for, Seiichi." Genichirou's lips were curled to a tiny, content smile and he found himself chuckling gently. It was generally not common anymore to see the grave man smiling so genuinely.

He lay down beside Genichirou again and gazed at the ceiling with lightly fogged eyes. His left side felt warm and he barely resisted the urge to snuggle more tightly against the source of the warmth. They were just friends and it would look odd.

"Genichirou, do you trust me?" He asked, seriousness colouring his soft voice.

"Why do you ask?" Genichirou sounded sleepy but not offended.

"Do you trust me?" He demanded again.

"Of course, Seiichi. But why-"

"Then answer me truthfully, " he interrupted Genichirou's confused question.

"Why do you stay with her although you don't love her?" He could almost feel the sudden intake of breath and the painful tensing of Genichirou's body beside him.

"I didn't know you were such a heartless person that you would let her believe in something that isn't true." He felt horrible. This should have been just a nice evening between old friends; memories filled with laughter and childlike innocence, warmth of connection bubbling inside them and easy, soft words exchanged for forming their bond anew.

But he had to break Genichirou's trust like this, by bringing something painful out in the open and inspecting it.

"What are you talking about, Seiichi?" Genichirou's voice, edged with coldness, told him with ease that the stoic man was angry. Not like the raging, violent kind of anger that Genichirou could sometimes indulge in but the hurt and defensive kind, which was the worst. At least that was what Yukimura thought.

"Of course I love her. Why else would I live with her? I have the God damned engagement rings in my racquet bag!" Yukimura sighed softly and started to push himself up. This wasn't fair. Why it had to be him?

"What do you mean, Seiichi?" Genichirou's hard hand caged his wrist and the rigid man pulled him back on top of the bed, this time facing Genichirou's expressionless face and pinned down by the intense glare from the brown, too familiar eyes.

"I don't like being lied to." Yukimura whispered. He seemed to have lost his voice and all carefully constructed thoughts spread away, shattering like a fragile glass.

Genichirou stared at him silently, burning holes into his brave self-assurance with intent eyes that seemed to say too many words at the same time and Yukimura felt like hiding or crying. He wasn't sure anymore which was the more pressing urge.

"I know you, Genichirou." It was hard to speak and he wanted this to be over as fast as possible.

"You look at her like you look at me. Not with the desperate longing you look at Atobe Keigo."

He tucked his hand free from Genichirou's hold and pushed himself upwards too fast, throwing his vision into wild spinning. He felt hot tears filling his eyes and quickly made his way to the door. He wouldn't cry! Not here, not now.

"You're not stupid, Genichirou. I hope you find the truth soon, so less people will get hurt." He knew that with his shoulders hanging low and his arms circled around himself, he must have looked shamelessly pitiful.

He couldn't look back at the bed where Genichirou laid silently, so he just stood by the door, facing the empty, darkening hallway, head bowed down, long curly hair shadowing his sad features. Why was this so hard? He had known for long time that Genichirou didn't love him.

"I only want you to be happy. Not miserable like you're now."

TBC


	4. Atobe

**Tango towards Destruction **

**Fandom:** Prince of Tennis  
**Title:** Tango Towards Destruction  
**Chapter title:** Between morning hours  
**Characters/Pairings:** Atobe (SanaAto, some SanaTezuAto, hinted OshiFuji and YanaYuki)  
**Rating:** G (chapter) NC – 17 (whole fic)  
**Warnings:**Au-ish, placed into the future.  
**Summary:** Father-son conversation in Atobe style.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own, they be Konomi Takeshi's.   
**Notes:** First of all, thank you **athena8** for wonderful beta reading. ♥ Love you muchly! And you can read the side story with Oshitari and Fuji from my livejournal under the username of shadowsinmind. The rating is too high for this place. ;D

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**  
Tango towards destruction**

_'Life is like a shooting star  
It don't matter who you are  
If you only run for cover, it's just a waste of time  
We are lost 'til we are found  
This phoenix rises up from the ground  
And all these wars are over'_

Dolphins cry – Live

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**Chapter 3.**

_Between morning hours._

He wasn't in a hurry. He had time, as much as he liked. The cool night air was kissing his bare chest, the unbuttoned silk shirt slipping off from his left shoulder and hanging loose, pooling at his elbow.

The placid water in the pool reflected shimmering lights from the upstairs windows as he walked silently towards the deck chairs laying under the closed patio umbrella, the tiled floor cool beneath his bare feet.

He sat himself down watching the flickering lights on the silent water, dropping the sake bottle carelessly beside him. For a while, he continued staring into the depths of colorless water from under his ruffled hair, face lax and eyes expressionless.

It was getting early.

The darkness was already carrying a hint of the awakening light. The night would be over soon. But he still had a few hours to endure, a few more moments to deal with his growing anxiety. During the late hours after the charity ball, he had done everything he could so he wouldn't have time left to think; to stop to ponder, even for a moment.

Because if he would let his thoughts wander, he would start demanding answers to questions for which he couldn't, for the life of him, find even a remotely satisfying solution.

He had been sure that he'd won against the frustrating crush he had had for Sanada. They hadn't seen each other for years; two years and four months, actually. And thoughts of the stoic man had come in more and more vaguely, without any real feelings.

He had been content. Sanada had been like thorn on his side, the only edged weakness he possessed. The need and want he had felt for the other man had only grown stronger over the years in high school. The passing moments they'd been at arms' length from each other had been spent in silence, trying to top the other with their gazes.

But now, the want and need were back. The pulling magnetism he felt between them in those brief moments at the ball was not the same as years ago; it had changed, as had he. Now there was more curiosity within the burning fire, the edge of the need tempered by maturation. But it didn't mean the force behind it had lessened any. On the contrary, the intriguing promise of something else made the fascination all the more alluring.

Atobe woke from a half sitting position, his thoughts having pulled him into a little daydream of nighttime fantasies. Time and thoughts to spare gave his imagination far too much free rein. He gingerly pushed himself to stand up and glanced at his watch.

05:55 am.

Swaying just a little on his unstable legs, he turned on his heels, walking quickly inside as he pulled his cell from his pocket and flipped it open. He turned to look out the window, his fingers halting over the numbers as he watched the day gradually dawning over the garden. Morning light swam in the glimmering depths of the pool as the benches, tiles, tables and bushes outlining the pool area filled slowly with color. It was as though this half-life state of gray nothingness were waging a fruitless battle against the sun, already knowing it would lose as the monsters of the night screamed voicelessly in their death.

Shuddering forcefully, he leaned his forehead on the glass, staring at the transparent reflection of himself in the clean window glass. His hand lifted up to trace the curve of his own lips on the reflection. Like his life it felt cold and distant under his fingertips.

"Keigo, what are you doing up this early?"

Atobe didn't bother to look at his father, who stopped to stand beside him, directing curious eyes on him. He knew already how the other would look like, in all his glorious charm. From morning to night, every hour of the day, ready to step into a business meeting in his creaseless suit, curly hair smoothed over his head in charming waves, and sky blue eyes glinting with steel cold amusement.

"Isn't Sakano here?"

The question didn't surprise Atobe; in fact, he was practically waiting for it. _Why do you want to know, Dad?_

"No, I dropped her home earlier," he still answered dutifully, like the good son that he was. He hated these conversations. It was one of _those_ again, he could hear it in his father's voice, see it in the glint of the man's eyes and in the way he positioned his hand over a slightly cocked hip.

"Did you have a lovers' quarrel?"

There was an undeniable hint of mockery in the older Atobe's voice, just barely audible in his words, though not really anything Atobe could get angry over.

"No, Father, we didn't." he sighed in a resigned murmur. Trust his father to dig into the matter without hesitation or fear of making Keigo uncomfortable. And forget that his son had been drinking the whole night through.

"Good."

Atobe bit the inside of his cheek - a nervous habit learned early in his childhood to remind himself of the cool, distant attitude that was preferred from him. The moment of silence between them felt like another drunken hour spend by the poolside, with only the steady breathing of the larger man to remind Atobe of his father's presence. And just when he was going to voice the words that would free him from the awkward encounter, the elder Atobe spoke out again.

"So what are your intentions towards her?"

Frowning darkly, Atobe turned to regard his father, wondering silently what the man was after now. Nothing in his life came for free, and there had to be some kind of fee to be paid for this conversation too. If only he could see his father's intentions as easily as the man could read his.

"What do you mean?" he croaked out, his mouth suddenly dry and throat parched.

"Do you have any intentions to propose to her soon?" his father purred with a smooth voice, studying Keigo's expressions with open curiosity as the slender young man tried to keep his face as impassive as possible.

"Propose? Father, we've only been going out just few months now." Atobe complained. Not that it would matter at all, but at least he had spoken his mind.

"Yes, it has been longer than any of your other relationships," the older man answered easily, as though a few weeks were all that distinguished eternal love from mere dating. "And you know she would be a good match since her father is a business associate of mine," he added lightly, his lips curving into slightly feral smile.

Atobe's hand gripped his cell phone hard and the young man clamped his teeth together to keep from snarling at his father. _Is that all you can think about, Dad?_ "A good match?" he finally asked with a hollow voice.

"And your mother has been waiting for your wedding her whole life now. You are our only child after all." The other continued carelessly with a slightly teasing tone in his voice, like Keigo was just a child and they were talking about his next birthday party.

"You have to keep up the family name," he added, his tone attaining a hint of steely coldness.

"Yes, family name," Atobe whispered. He didn't understand why this was affecting him so much, for he had known this was how things had to be. Family honor, traditions, prestige…

His father arched one elegant eyebrow at the silent answer. "What is the problem, Keigo?"

"Did I say there was a problem?" The fair-haired youth countered with a hint of bitterness in his voice, lowering his eyes to his hands and to the cell phone. He eased down on the death grip he had created around the device and began scrolling through the numbers in the phonebook, idly regarding the names of his friends. _Were their lives like this?_

"You don't love her, is that it?" Atobe couldn't believe his father was this clueless. It had to be that the man was just cruel by nature.

"No, I don't love her."

"Love isn't everything Keigo." There had been times in Atobe's life when he had believed in the shimmer of tender emotions in his father's voice, like a distant echo of something long since dead. But at that moment, the tone of the older man's voice was only a futile effort at manipulating him, falling just shy of the guilt the man was trying to impose.

"No, it's not. There's a lot of important things beside it. Like money. " He knew perfectly well his voice was growing more bitter by the moment but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

"Yes, good income is an important thing, Keigo. There's nothing wrong with wishing for good fortune for one's family. It's an honorable thing- " Atobe's father began, seriousness creeping in to his tone and words. But Atobe was too agitated to listen anymore to what the man had to say and cut off the lecture before it began.

"Yes, honorable. I'm bored of this conversation now," he snapped and turned away from his father.

"You're going to sleep?" The elder Atobe addressed his son's back as the young man started walking away.

"No, it's too early for that," Atobe answered absentmindedly, selecting Oshitari's number from his speed dial and flipping the device to his ear. The tensai had better be awake.

"Don't drive when you're drunk Keigo."

"No driving when drunk, Father."

TBC


End file.
